Whipped Cream Fantasy

Is anybody here able to see a bottle of whipped cream and not immediately think naughty thoughts? Yes, it may be cliché, but who is to say that these things aren't classics for a reason? So when I found a bottle of (still good -- I checked) whipped cream left over at a hostel in Buenos Aires, I enjoyed the ambiguity of squirting some directly into my mouth whenever a certain German guy was around.

I didn't play it up. I find that in this sort of situation it's best to act natural -- innocent, even. I prefer to let a guy's fantasy do the work. Or am I wrong in thinking that some inadvertently sexy act is even hotter, sometimes, than some overtly seductive action. There's something illicit in this private appreciation, those dirty inner thoughts.

Of course, one can only be coy for so long. Fantasies must be taken advantage of before they expire.

So I took some pictures. Don't bother asking for them, but imagine this: My face turned slightly upwards, tongue extended, nozzle releasing just a bit of fluffy whiteness upon my tongue. Imagine me, with a black bra, and a horizontal streak of whipped cream over the tops of my breasts. Imagine a picture of me with my eyes closed and my lips secure around the nozzle. Imagine a picture of my torso with a line of little whipped cream dots leading towards the waistband of my little tanga shorts.

My breasts are large enough so that I can actually lick the whipped cream off myself. There is visual proof of this. After I removed my bra, I covered first the nipple with whipped cream, but that looked strange somehow, so I filled in the whole areola, and then the other one. There is a picture of my breasts squished together with white smudged all over them, and another one featuring my tongue reaching for the whipped cream on my nipple.

I did not, however, put any whipped cream in places where my own tongue wouldn't reach. But I have discovered that the whole whipped cream thing, while sounding cliché, is actually (take my word for it) really, really hot! I got turned on with these pictures, the implied blowjob, the extended tongue, the whipped cream dribbled around my mouth in a pseudo-cumshot. Now I imagine what it would be like to try this with someone, to lick and to be licked.

Imagine this scenario.

You are on the bed, and I have bound your wrists together above you, but left your eyes clear so that you could see all my administrations. I'd explore the taste of each part of your body. I'd begin with a dab upon your wrist, followed by warm, moist lips lapping against it, sucking slightly. Then your fingers, taking them into my mouth one by one, and licking between them.

Of course, your wrists are bound above you, so this involves some creative maneuvering on my part, specifically me straddling your chest and leaning forward. My breasts hang right above your face. You lap at them while I work, much to my pleasure.

Would you like to try some? I put the bottle to your lips but I release far too much onto your mouth, on purpose, so that I can lean down and put my mouth upon yours and lick the excess whipped cream directly off your tongue. The kiss is messy and wet and sweet and I devour both the whipped cream and your tongue with earnest. You are left breathless, but I've already moved on, spraying some whipped cream along your jawbone and down your neck to the tops of your shoulders, and then following with my tongue. I have to go over the area a few times to get it all off. Then I turn the nozzle upon your waist, your ribs, where you are (maybe?) slightly ticklish. Where my tongue leaves a wet trail of saliva, I blow against the skin. Maybe you've gotten goosebumps by now.

Finally, I run a line straight down your chest to your bellybutton. Settling myself between your legs, I make eye contact with you as I lick up from the waistband of your boxers. My fingers play under the fabric on the legs, I release your hard-on through the opening on the front and spray amply upon the head.

Most women love ice cream. In particular, I love ice cream, and devour it with abandon. Same goes for the head of your cock on this occasion, as I lick around the head and suck at it and spray some more whipped cream on it and then suck at it some more. My eyes are closed, and you alternate between throwing your head back with the pleasure, and looking down at the sight of me sucking your cock.

Probably I'd free your cock then, discarding the boxers somewhere in the corner of the room, and with my hand hold your erection up against your stomach. I'd then continue with a line of whipped cream that runs from just above your balls, up along the vein on the underside of your cock, and on the head. At that point I'd lick it all off, with my tongue pressed flat against your cock, applying lots of pressure. I'd lick one slow, strong stroke up your cock, and obviously all the whipped cream would smear against my tongue and my mouth. Then I'd lean up and kiss you and let you lick the sweetness off my lips while my hand grips your cock and lazily strokes.

And by now, your cock is more delicious in my mouth than any topping could aspire to be. Though the whipped cream makes a fun prop. I release a circle of the stuff all around the base of your cock (a little desert cock ring) and lick my way around, stroking your shaft all the while, running my palm flatly over the slit on the head. And then, pulling back, I'd swallow your cock on the first stroke, and pause right there, flexing my throat muscles so that they massage the head.

I'm close to my breaking point. Having you here like this, bound; tasting and licking you; and going at your cock with every oral sex technique that I know, it's not long before I take care of my own pleasure. There's a (strawberry-flavored) condom in my nightstand. I put it on you, put a dab of whipped cream on the tip, suck it off lightly, and then position my body on top of yours.

I look into your eyes as I sink down, and you feel my slick and heated pussy grip your cock. I groan with that feeling, that strange indescribable incomparable feeling of being so full, of you hitting hidden places that are rarely felt or touched. And then I pull myself up so that you're almost completely out of my pussy, I look down, and you follow my gaze, and this time you SEE as well as feel how your flesh disappears within mine.

What else needs to be said here? I place my hands upon your chest and roll my hips feeling you move inside me, and then we begin to move in synch, and you're thrusting up into me hard, as hard as you can. The room smells like sex and is filled with our moans and the taste of whipped cream lingers faintly upon our tongues and I ride you, ride you, ride you. My breasts bounce up and down but your hands are still bound, through red at the wrists by now, and you wish you could reach out and grab them, pinch at the nipples, squeeze them and think about how they overflow around your palm.

I am panting and grunting on top of you and suddenly I cry out and my body spasms a bit and I do these little half-jumps upon your cock. I squeeze down upon your cock and this triggers your own orgasm. I lean down and we kiss fiercely, with me biting down a bit upon your lip.

Afterwards, without quite getting off you yet, I reach up and undo your bindings. You grab me and shift our weight so that we end up side by side, and pull out. My eyes are closed and I'm breathing heavily, but upon feeling this I slide down your body and remove the condom and gently, because I know how sensitive you get post-orgasm, gently and softly place my mouth around your cock and lick it clean.

There's always a bottle of whipped cream in the fridge after that.